Revenge

Zephyr meticulously mixed the potion to ensure its maximum strength. When his brew was complete, he drained every drop from the cauldron into a waiting mug and guzzled it down. The mixture took effect immediately. His beard changed from long and white to a salt-and-pepper gray stubble. Zephyr’s back straightened and stretched, adding several inches of height to his already imposing frame. His eye color transformed from a mysterious black to an alluring deep ocean blue. There was nothing about him that resembled his original self.

With his transformation now complete, Zephyr climbed aboard his horse-drawn peddler’s cart. The wagon contained items of all sizes and descriptions for constructing potions and spells. Mixed in with the usual ingredients, such as eye of newt, dandelion root, rose petals, nettle, and black sand, were more coveted items. Adder’s tongue, Dead Sea salt, Mercury, several human skulls, and Ectoplasm were for sale. The peddler’s wagon contained even rarer items, including dragons’ teeth and a necklace of fireballs.

The transformed peddler traveled along rutted, rock-strewn dirt roads. He meandered through dense forests, meadows, and swamps, and over rolling hills. The journey was exhausting, but trying to dissuade him from his mission was impossible. He had suffered an inexcusable wrong, and nothing or no one would keep him from his justified revenge. The self-righteous coven would see what humiliation truly felt like.

Exhaustion is the ultimate determiner for every traveler, and the peddler was no exception. He would make camp along the roadside or, if traveling through a village, stop at a welcoming inn. It was at one such inn that Sabina caught his eye. She had long, flowing black hair, a disarming smile, and, most importantly, captivating gold eyes. It was those gold eyes, the rarest of all human eye colors, that drew him to her. She arrived at his table to take his order and immediately fell under a spell of attraction he had evoked.

His spell ensnared Sabina, drawing her closer to him, both physically and mentally. The shock of losing her will to this stranger quickly turned to resistance. Much to his surprise, her will overcame him and she broke free from his spell. She possessed a power that Zephyr had never come across before. Even more intriguing was the fact that she didn’t know she possessed it. If only he had more time to train her in the dark arts. Unfortunately, time was not a luxury he had.

Zephyr left the inn early the following morning. Two days later, as the moon breached the horizon, he arrived at the coven compound. The compound he had created with his own blood and spells. A protection hex placed around the compound was so strong that even he, its originator, could not penetrate it. The only way in was to be invited by a member of the coven. It was time for him to assume the role of a peddler of spell ingredients.

Standing at the compound gates, Zephyr called out, “Potions, amulets, all manner of ingredients for sale. Come peruse my fine collection.” Several heads popped over the wall to view the stranger and his wagon. Slowly, the gate opened and a single woman dressed all in black beckoned him to enter.

“Thank you, most gracious lady. I have brought many items from this world and the netherworld for your covens’ inspection and perhaps purchase. Would you be so kind as to call everyone to my wagon so I may start the demonstration?”

Slowly, thirteen women all dressed alike gathered around the wagon and waited for the demonstration to begin, and begin it did. Zephyr swirled a large black cloak around his body and then let it fall to the ground, revealing his true form. The witches all gasped in disbelief as the man they had magically transported to a distant land stood before them. He was the coven’s founder and leader until the women decided they no longer wanted him around.

Zephyr glared at the group of thirteen as individual bolts of lightning shot from his fingertips. The bolts struck each coven member, turning them into scurrying rats. The mayhem lasted for several minutes until each rodent darted through the gate and into the surrounding woods, never to be seen again.

The warlock stood surveying his compound. He was once again a leader without a coven. Perhaps Sabina will be a suitable candidate?